|I think I was duped into being the Cookie Mother for the entire troop.|
This is just the first truckload. :(
The problem with Girl Scout Cookies
begins with the ring of the doorbell
and a cute little blonde-haired girl in a decorated brown vest
screwing up her gumption and her voice
so that she can remember her practiced lines.
“Would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”
And though I search for an excuse to say ‘no’,
what I see is her mother standing at the end of my driveway,
waiting to walk her to the next house
and silently pleading with me not to break her daughter’s heart.
“Of course I’d like some Girl Scout Cookies.”
The back of her little brown vest
as she skips down my driveway
is just as sweet as a Caramel Delight
and I wish I’d bought more than 2 boxes.
My chance comes again –
every time I stop at the grocery in March.
where the Brownies, Daisies and Cadets
come in all shapes and sizes,
with their delicious varieties
stacked right there on the table.
Ponytails bouncing, they ask me shyly, if I’d
“like to buy a box of Girl Scout cookies?”
It isn’t just calories and cavities at stake.
Self-esteem is on the line,
not to mention all the great camaraderie that the troop surely shares.
I dig in my purse for a few dollar bills.
While I hunt, they close the sale,
“Did you know you can freeze the cookies?”
Aren't they cute.
As if the cookies ever make it beyond the front seat of my car.